As Marie Castener turned into the Rue Romaine she heard Bibi shouting like a madman.
“Put me at the door, put me at the door.”
They humoured him, and he began to lash at it with his big feet till the flimsy thing broke away from its fastenings and showed the struggling group upon the stairs. Ledoux was leaning against the wall holding his head in his hands; three other men were dragging Brent down the stairs.
Marie Castener panted down the Rue Romaine, waving her hands in the air.
“Mon Dieu—ces hommes!”
For once in her life her phlegm deserted her, and her emotion overflowed her bulk. She was to stop Manon—prevent her returning to the Café de la Victoire—but beyond that her ideas were hazy and uncertain.
Fifty yards down the Rue Romaine she met Manon coming towards her, a Manon who h
